


A Matter of Life and Death

by Momma_Time



Series: Overwatch Things [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-06-18 08:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15481650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momma_Time/pseuds/Momma_Time
Summary: Life and Death exist in a truce, of sorts. One cannot survive without the other, and they'd die for one another, whether they realize it or not.Takes place after Overwatch is recalled.





	1. Life Cannot End

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a 5+1 in format but not completely. The pov bounces back and forth between them throughout.  
> The story is just times they've saved each other in battle.

Life and Death avoided one another on the field. They're opposites, polar in their goals and purpose.

One gives, saves, protects, gives people a second chance.

The other destroys, takes everything from everyone, and burns it in hell.

This does not mean that they never meet, that there is never a time when they don't see one another on the battlefield.

Mercy was separated from her team, hurrying to catch up after they ran ahead while she healed a civilian. Someone should have stayed behind to keep an eye out for danger; everyone should have waited so she could keep them safe in return. This was more common than she and everyone else liked to admit. Always ready to jump to the defense of others but forget that they need to keep the one person who can keep them alive...well...alive. She couldn't help if she were hurt or lost or left behind.

Honestly, it was a miracle she wasn't dead yet.

She rounded a corner, sprinting towards the source of the noise in the distance. Where there was a ruckus, there was her team. The problem with this was that not everyone would be there; someone would be on the outskirts, looking to ambush or merely secure the area for their allies. It was great when they were one of your own. Less so when it was an enemy agent with their gun drawn and aimed at your head. No one was around to save her from death this time, or to save her from being captured if the agent felt like putting her through whatever inhumane program they had for their soldiers. Mercy would rather die than suffer through the torture.

The agent seemed to read her mind, considering which would be a better fit for the medic. Mercy watched with dread as the woman smirked and lowered her gun slightly. The latter was to be her fate, then. She half wondered if she could force the agent's hand and push the woman into killing her instead, a controlled suicide. The thought made her stomach turn, but the prospect of being locked away was far more sickening.

Just as Mercy planned to pounce, blood, bone, and gray matter sprayed against the wall beside them and along the right side of her face. For just a moment, Mercy wondered if it was hers, but then reasoning caught up with her. She wouldn't be standing here, watching the agent collapse to the ground in a lifeless heap if Mercy had been shot.

She jolted back from the crumpling corpse and whirled to the left to face a hooded menace. Death had found her and had claimed an agent of his own organization. Did he want to take her back himself? Did he plan just to kill her here and now? Slowly?

His shotguns had already lowered to his sides, even as Mercy brought up her staff as a useless barrier between them. It wouldn't do much damage to him if she tried to hit him with it, nor would it save her from a bullet. The Reaper seemed unimpressed with Life's feeble attempt at protection. Why she didn't have her gun drawn while she hurried to catch up to her team was beyond him. She never really was a shoot first and ask questions later kind of woman. He both admired it and remembered his annoyance when he was still with Overwatch. It made it harder to keep her safe when she only drew her pistol as a last resort. Really, he should just take advantage of it and kill her now. Even after several years since the fall, she still didn't know what he looked like now, how monstrous and twisted. Maybe he could reveal himself and then kill her, see her take in the shell of a man he had become and then ensure there wasn't a witness; it would be a bit of a relief.

But Death knew that Life needed to keep going, that killing Life would be killing the few people he still cared about in the organization he'd long abandoned. Today would not be the day her story ended. Not now.

"They don't know what they are losing if you die." Why did she stay with them if they always left her behind? Did they even care? Of course they did, but in the heat of battle, it's easy to forget everything else, especially a medic who tries to stay out of the way while she works. That didn't frustrate him any less. It did then, and it does now.

Was Life perfect? Far from it. But that didn't mean that there wasn't an abundance of goodness in her. Besides, she had never been on his list to begin with. Reaper would take a few token shots, but rarely to harm and never to kill. That pilot was another one that he went easy on, but that's a story for another day.

"Well, if I die, it is not my problem anymore." She knew he could see the sliver of a lie there. Even in death, it would grieve her to know that she could no longer help them.

Rather than comment on it, he took a step closer, ignoring how her knuckles turned white with the death grip she had on her staff. Even with concrete dust and blood and who knows what else on her, Life was still radiant, still a beacon of hope and kindness. He hesitated when he reached out and she flinched away from him, but ultimately, he continued and gently wiped some of the blood from her cheek. Life, covered with the wrong kind of death, was not a sight to see. Death would rather cover Life with himself than with the tainted blood of those he deemed unworthy of her time.

"I'll clear a path for you, but don't expect me to do this next time," he groused.

Mercy looked upon the man in confusion, wondering why on earth her enemy would want to help her, keep her safe on her trek back to the fight. The Reaper was one of the newly recalled Overwatch's biggest enemies. Why? Wouldn't it be more profitable for Talon if he killed her now? No one would know what had happened for ages until they happened upon her body; the kill would be easy.  
Maybe that's why he wouldn't, she decided. The kill wasn't a challenge for him.

"How do I know you are not leading me into a trap?" she finally asked. "And why?"

She couldn't see his eyes, couldn't tell what he was thinking or how he was looking at her. Was it in judgment? Amusement? Annoyance or disdain? Mercy hated that mask of his, even as she found it curious.

"Life cannot end," was his cryptic reply. Without waiting on a response, he turned and dissolved into a cloud of smoke, leaving her to follow or don't.

After a moment to consider what would happen if she did follow, Mercy decided to risk it. What did she have to lose? He'd just killed one of his own to save her from death or worse. Why not believe that he genuinely wanted to help? Well, he worked for Talon, for starters. And then there was the fact that he assassinated former, high ranking Overwatch officials. Mercy had been the head of the medical research department. She would be high ranking in her own right.

Rather than further question it, Mercy broke out into a jog to keep the mist in view. Reaper as fog was just always a brief glimpse as he moved around a corner, leaving the occasional body behind that Mercy had to jump over or simply run around. She didn't look at them beyond recognizing their position on her way by; Mercy didn't want to know if they were friend or foe, or know how they were dying so quickly as he passed by them. Death works in mysterious ways, she supposed, taking people down like a plague upon humanity.

When they were a block away from the fighting, he solidified and faced her. Mercy came to an abrupt stop, nearly running into him.

"Don't let me find out that I saved you only for you to die out there anyway." His gravelly voice was stern, but maybe she imagined the hint of playfulness behind the words and his tone.

"Again, if I die, it is no longer my problem." Her lips twitched towards a smile, but she held it at bay. Mostly.

There was a huff of laughter as he made for an alleyway. "I'll find a way to make it your problem. Don't test me." With that, he was gone, leaving her standing alone in the middle of a street that had nearly been demolished in the fight.

She murmured out a "yes, sir" into the empty road.


	2. Life After Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life returns the favor.

Life is capable of saving Death. She is Life, after all. Bringer of second chances.

Mercy didn't hate him, but she didn't approve of his actions at all. He was a murder, a psychopath, right? Who in their right mind would be okay with that? But she didn't hate him; Mercy didn't know if she was fully capable of real hate, or if there were only ever brief glimpses throughout her life. True life, a fulfilling one, turned away from hate; Life would defend the weak and innocent from the notion.

She found him when she was told to take cover, hiding in an office and turning off the lights to better avoid detection. It took time for the darkness to fade from her vision and for there to be clarity in the view of her surroundings. A soft grunt behind a cubby wall alerted her to the fact that she sure as hell wasn't alone in here.

Mercy drew her pistol immediately, holding it at the ready as she slowly approached the desk from which she heard the sound. Maybe it was a staff member of the building or one of her agents. Either way, they sounded hurt. When she finally had her gun trained on the dark shape on the floor, hand pressed to his side, she was left with a decision to make. Kill him while he was down to save lives, or return the favor from the month before.

She hated to kill, but he was ruthless in his pursuit of former Overwatch officials, cutting each down one-by-one. What's to say that she wasn't on his list too?

But she owed him.

Slowly, she holstered her pistol and pulled out her staff and a medkit. "Move your hand away from the wound and hold up this flashlight for me to see what I'm doing," she ordered.

Reaper complied and hissed in discomfort when she started to clean the wound before healing it with her staff. His skin itched and burned as it and the nerves repaired themselves. Reaper saw it as pointless with how he usually regenerated fairly quickly.

"A healer through and through. Some things never change, huh Doc?" He reangled the light.

Mercy froze, eyes darting up to the black pits in the mask that made up the eyes in the design. Never change? What did he mean by that? "Excuse me?"

"You. You haven't changed a bit over the years."

"You have no idea what I am like now." Mercy slowly returned to her task of fixing him up. She'd been told that Reaper was Gabriel, a commander she had respected and admired for his leadership skills and battle tactics; everything had been carefully measured. Mercy didn't know why he turned on them all, why he'd sworn to take down Overwatch from the inside out. She feared knowing, however, not wanting to wind up hating someone she was close to. Maybe it was actually fear that she would agree with his reasons.

"Don't I? You do humanitarian work overseas, you keep in close contact with that angsty ninja, you're doing more research into why you're not aging like you're supposed to, what effects it might have on you long term."

"Just because you know of my whereabouts, does not mean that you know who I am now."

"You're saving an enemy, that makes you a traitor, doesn't it?" he snapped.

Mercy stood her ground, glaring down at him through the darkness. "I am a healer through and through, remember? I heal indiscriminately, Reaper."

"You shouldn't. It'll get you killed one of these days." He growled in pain when she pinched him below the wound, scowling at him. So much for do no harm. "What the fuck?"

"Says the man who saved me, says the man who pulls his punches when he is fighting us if I am too close to the fight." Her defiance when she was annoyed had amused him back in the day, so long as it wasn't aimed at him. If he was the reason for her ire, the guilt weighed him down until her mood lightened or until he fixed his mistake. Now, however, there was only an annoyance that she dared to be pissed off at him for this when she was the one who didn't bother to question people with Overwatch.

"My mercy won't last forever, Angel."

No one called her Angel in years, and when they had, it was usually in jest or as part of her title. There was little fooling around these days; everyone was too wrapped up in their goal of bringing down Talon to worry about games.

She didn't want to tempt fate. "When will you stop, Gabriel?"

He missed hearing his name on her lips, his real name. Two people named for guardians of heaven, and to hear an angel say his name, to speak of him like an old friend, the reminder stung. Rather than linger here and risk doing anything rash, Reaper smirked behind the mask and reached out to raise her chin a little. "You may never know until the day comes, little bird." Ooh, riling her up with pet names was going to be fun in the future if that sour look on her face was anything to go by. "Thanks for patching me up, but I have to get back to work. Not everyone has the benefit of hiding during a fight."

"I am not in this room because I wanted to be and—"

"But you're in here with me, not out there with them." He leaned into her space, wishing she could see the wolfish grin on his face. "Is it possible for angels to be scared of death?"

"You tell me, Death," she replied quietly.

That shut him up. She called him death. That was a new one. Reaper moved closer until he could feel her breath brushing through the holes in his mask. "Are you calling me an angel, Angela?"

"You are an angel of death, are you not? Is Death afraid of himself?"

There was silence between them, with Reaper noting every detail of her face with this close distance. She couldn't see as well, but there was nothing to see here anyway. Just a mask and a hood. But her features had always been radiant.

Eyes bright and always filled with such wonder and determination, with a hard-earned wisdom hiding behind them. Faint freckles dotted her cheeks and one on her ear, it looked like. He could remember the ones that covered her shoulders and back when the heads decided to take a weekend trip for "team building."

She'd thrown on a modest one piece and hid under an umbrella at the beach to keep from burning her skin. Reaper didn't know what she looked like with a tan, wondered if it would suit her. She'd braided her hair that day, one long lock of sunshine that seemed so endearing on her at the time. It suited her, along with how she'd curled her hair when everyone went out for dinner after. She cleaned up well, always had for various charity events where they had to sweet-talk senators and business moguls alike. A simple dress to a ball gown. He'd seen her in everything. But that night had seemed a little different. She wasn't there to work or to worry about the responsibilities they had back at HQ and in the low light, she practically glowed. It took off a few years of stress and exhaustion, and in such a casual sundress, she was all but breathtaking. A real living angel sat across from him at dinner that night, and it had taken every ounce of willpower to not stare the whole night, though Jack teased him and said he had been.

He could still see that young doctor; she hadn't aged a day. Whatever she did to herself in her lab, what experiments she performed on herself rather than on others, it'd certainly done something.

She was waiting for an answer, and Gabriel needed to give her one. "Death only fears the day Life ends, and he no longer holds a purpose."

Before she could respond, there was a noise outside the door, Tracer, by the sound of it. Reaper quickly turned into a cloud of smoke and slipped into an air vent to escape, leaving Life alone in the darkness.


	3. Life and Death Go Hand in Hand

Both organizations were trying to take back the city from a gang that has gained power and ground. It was a fight to the finish, to see who got this region. Not only were they fighting each other, but now they were fighting these gang members who had stolen tech from...somewhere. Life didn't know yet, but maybe one of the others did. What mattered most to her was that they had weapons that could hold up to theirs and she had to be even more careful than usual.

She backed up when the gang advanced, glancing side to side to watch for anyone who may try to flank them. The last thing they needed was a surprise, and as the most vulnerable, well, she had to be watchful.

A slow mass moved in her peripherals and Mercy turned her head quickly to get a better look. Her heart had stuttered in fear for the briefest moments before she recognized Death.

Backing up a little more and just out of earshot in a lowered voice, Mercy flashed the smoking mass a small smile. "Here to surrender?"

"You wish," it growled. The form began to solidify into Reaper, who was striding to her side quickly. "I need your help. Now."

"What?" She couldn't just leave her team.

He didn't bother waiting for her to agree, just grabbed her wrist and dragged her back a few more paces, and then around a corner for a short distance. "No time. Just give me a boost in a few seconds."

"Gabriel, I need to be with my te—"

"Your whole team will die in a minute if you don't help me and help me now," Death snapped, readying his guns and cracking his neck. He didn't face her, didn't look back, just faced forward to take on whoever came out.

Mercy didn't have to wait long until she heard a motor, and then a large truck whirled around the corner where several men jumped out, guns taking aim immediately.

"Now!" She wasted no time and starting the boost and stepping to the side to get out of the line of fire. It took a second before she heard Reaper taking them head-on. Mercy poked her head around the corner to watch and make sure he didn't need her to heal him at any point. Within moments, he ghosted around them and killed them before they could turn to face the cloud of smoke.

Once they were down, dead, he lowered his guns and started towards her again. Mercy had him patched up by the time he reached the wall she'd ducked behind. The way he seemed to storm towards her, Mercy thought he was pissed. At what, she didn't know.

But instead of going off on her in a rage, instead of complaining, he took her hand and raised it to his mask, which he raised up just enough to press a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Mercy caught a brief glance of a scar on his chin, a bold white against dark skin, before he pulled the mask back down.

Rather than voice his thanks, he dropped most of the raspiness of his voice long enough to murmur, "Stay safe, my angel."

"Angela!" They both started and Death whirled around, ready to defend them both when he saw that it was Winston, yelling for Reaper to get away from Life. The scientist lept forward but Reaper was a mist and gone before Winston reached them.

Mercy watched as Winston turned away long enough to make sure Reaper was gone before he turned back to her. "Are you okay? Angela, how did you get—"

Mercy gently patted his shoulder, smiling tiredly. "I heard someone shout in pain and came to make sure it was not one of ours or a civilian. I am fine, Winston. I was left unhurt...this time."

He leaned in and gently bumped his head against hers, drawing a smile to her face. "Take one of us with you next time. You know better, doctor."

"I might," she replied with a smirk. "Or maybe I will take my chances."

"Please don't try your luck out here. You'll give me gray hair."

"Your hair is already grey, Winston, but I understand. I am sorry.

With a tired sigh, he gestured for her to follow and they made their way back. Mercy glanced over her shoulder, watching as a dark shape disappeared into the shadows again.


	4. A Raven Catches the Swan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly in Gabe's POV.

Even solid, maintaining the shape of a man, he still moved fluidly through a crowd. And at a themed gala, where everyone was dressed up for the occasion, he didn't have to worry about his appearance scaring anyone off. He could wear his gloves and a different mask than the one he worked with to blend in seamlessly.

His waistcoat was gray, with a twisting and thorny pattern sewn into it, with a coat that was black with a blood red trim and lining. His plague mask didn't stick out nearly as far as the originals, but it still made him stand out. Lastly, his pepper colored hair was pulled back in a loose tail with a bone white ribbon.

His mission here was non-existent. He wasn't invited and didn't have a clear objective. Death merely wanted to surprise someone.

His target was a short distance away, engaged in a conversation with another researcher in her field. The man was talking animatedly, oblivious to Life wishing that she had several more glasses of wine to get through it all. Any escape would do, but the gentleman did not have a clue.

Death would gladly provide her with one.

Before he approached and interrupted, Death stopped to take her in. Her gown was a pale blue with a twisting embroidery from the waist down. Above a glittering sash, a pattern that was feather-like snaked its way up her stomach and back, with actual feathers covering her breasts. The neckline swooped low, far lower than Gabriel had ever seen her wear, but it did its job of teasing onlookers. She had a simple cape that attached to her shoulders and cascaded like water to the floor. It was blue, the same shade as her dress, but no pattern existed to break up the color.

Finally, her mask was attached to a circlet of silvery-white. It glimmered faintly against her platinum hair, accentuating it rather than overshadowing the bright shade. The mask itself was also feathered, a bird's mask that didn't travel further down than her nose and swayed with her movements. Rosy lips were on full display and Gabriel wished he could have a taste.

She was a vision, in his opinion. A gorgeous, ethereal being who belonged at the top, who was above everyone in the room. Why no one worshiped the ground she walked on when she walked through those doors was beyond him. Who could possibly refrain from doing so? A brilliant, kind, and gorgeous woman was generous enough to grace them with her presence.

Maybe he was biased.

Closing the distance, Gabriel politely interrupted the young man and held a hand out to Angela. "Would you do me the honor of sharing a dance with me?"

Oh thank heavens, she thought. Angela was finally free of this awkward situation.

She smiled politely and took the offered hand, not paying attention to who asked outside of the fact that someone finally asked. "I would like that, yes. Please excuse me, Doctor Mitchell."

The masked man led her away and to the dance floor, gracefully drawing her into the waltz that had begun moments before.

"Thank you for the rescue," she murmured.

"You seemed desperate, doctor. How could I not offer an escape?"

Angela nearly stumbled once she recognized the voice, eyes wide as she looked into the eyes of his mask. "Gabriel? What are you doing here? It is not safe for you."

"I can't take time out of my evening to see a beautiful angel charm the world?" He gently guided her closer, relieved that she didn't resist him. There was only silence from Angela, but Gabriel could see that her brows were furrowed in thought. Her thinking face had always been adorable, how her lips pursed in frustration and her nose wrinkled while she puzzled over her work. "Don't think too hard. I'm beginning to see smoke coming out of your ears."

Angela could hear the playful tone in his voice, his very clear and unchanged voice. She hadn't realized how much she missed it. "I am merely trying to work out why you are really here. To my knowledge, no one of import is in attendance this evening."

"You don't think you're important? Oh, Doc, they must not be treating you well at work. Of everyone here, you are by far the most important person in the world." He liked watching her lips twist towards a smile.

"You are...what is the phrase you and Jack used? Blowing smoke up my skirts? What do you want, Gabriel? You are after something." She smiled warmly at him, at her enemy. Why was she not panicking or running or calling Winston or Rein? Someone should know that the Reaper was here.

Gabriel laughed, a rusty and unused sound; it had been far too long since he'd laughed at something so light-hearted rather than at whatever situation he'd found himself in with a target. "Well, Doc, I could do more than blow smoke up your skirts, if you'd like. You only have to ask." He didn't think she'd actually take him up on it. Angela had no idea what he looked like now, and after these last few months, Gabriel didn't want her to know. What little kindness she showed him would be lost if she knew.

Angela giggled quietly, her ears and cheeks turning a faint pink. Was he really flirting with her? Offering her a chance to find mischief? Heaven help her, it was like they were a pair of college students looking for a bit of fun. Was there more to it than that? Angela wasn't sure.  
Maybe she could take the bait and see how far she could push this. "Why, Gabriel, are you promising an innocent and respectable young woman a good time?"

His smile turned wolfish. Oh, so she wanted to play the game. Fine. He would see where the line was. "An innocent and respectable woman would not ask the devil a question she knows the answer to."

Gabriel led her in a small twirl, admiring how the dress and cape fanned out. She was like a princess, or perhaps a queen. Angela could make a terrifying figure when she wanted to be, a leader who wouldn't back down from a challenge when the time was right. "Besides, I couldn't corrupt Overwatch's angel, now could I?"

When she rejoined him, pressed flush against him, he stared down at the coy smirk on her lips. "Who is to say that I am not already corrupted? I am your ally on occasion now, am I not?"

He chuckled lowly at that. "An angel like you? It is impossible to taint one with your resolve and heart. Now, give you a few images to remember in the late hours later on? I would be more than happy to provide you with a few memories."

"Then what are you waiting for? My apartment is not far from here." Wait, no. She wasn't supposed to be serious. It was a game, nothing more. She wasn't supposed to know more than what he allowed her to see. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking hell and now he couldn't bring himself to back down.

He was too greedy for that, too selfish to let her go when she so freely offered him this chance. She wanted it, wanted him. They were enemies, fighting alongside their friends and co-workers to win this little war of theirs. They were never meant to grow close again.

He leaned in and finally whispered into her ear, "Then lead the way, my angel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saving someone from an awkward social situation counts in the theme, right?
> 
> Lemme know what y'all think. I know I'm churning these chapters out but I had part of it written already and whoops now I'm inspired.


	5. When an Angel Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life almost falls, but Death catches her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to make a full chapter of smut, but I just couldn't do it. I struggle writing the stuff anyway and it'd be years before I finally posted this chapter if I tried to stick to it. Sorry guys! There is undressing, however, so, you know, enjoy that bit.  
> I get tired of post recall MercyKill smut and things being so dark and rough. Like, Reaper isn't a good guy but he's still snarky and has that stupid sense of humor. Anyway, so this is lighthearted and a lot fluffy.  
> I saw a post the other day from a reddit thread where guys were saying what they wished their girlfriends/wives would do in the bedroom and one dude said that he would like it if she undressed him for a change because he found the idea hot and sensual and what not. Y'all get that. Enjoy.

The air was charged between them on their way back. Angela said her goodbyes to former colleagues and the like on their way out, but she was itching to get to her car. Just as when she was working, her driving was careful and measured, but sure of what she was doing; she wasn't a nervous driver that had a close relationship with the brakes, at least, much to Gabriel's relief.  
Driving in this dress, however, was a challenge. It was on the way to the gala, and it is now on their way back to her apartment.

Her home in the city was not nearly as homey as her place in the country. When she was working on a project, she preferred it by the lake where she could look outside while she thought about whatever was giving her trouble. It was more peaceful and easier to focus. The only reason she was in the city this week was because of this gala and a different conference she was presenting at.

As soon as she had that out of the way, she planned to make for the hills. Literally.

Their trek inside after she parked the car was more leisurely than they felt. Angela could feel Gabriel's eyes on her but pretended to not notice the heated stares. Let him look, she thought smugly. When the elevator dinged, signaling that they had made it to her apartment, she took a turn to stare, watching for his reaction to her apartment as the doors opened to reveal a minimalist place. The problem? She forgot he was still wearing that damn mask. How was she supposed to see the searing looks, how she knew damn well he wanted to devour her? Well, maybe not that far, but at least know that he wanted to touch every inch of her.

The only change she picked up on was how any strain from holding himself back in public, how the stress of being around so many people, seemed to ease out of him in an exhale. At least he was relaxed, she thought.

She took the lead and stepped out of the elevator, hanging her coat and glancing over her shoulder to see if he ever planned to follow. He was slow to do the same, to carefully remove the coat and hang it on a hook beside hers; Angela remembered how gentle he was of the things he'd made for special occasions, how hands that could tear a man apart could just as easily handle something with care. She wasn't sure if she should watch his hands or how he shouldered off the coat. Both had their merits.

Once he finished, Gabriel finally trailed after her, only to stop her from turning on the lights. He wasn't ready for her to see just yet; Gabriel didn't want the moment to be ruined if he could help it, but the look in her eyes... He seemed to withdraw a little, tensing again as he finally turned on the lights. Better for her to see now than for her to be surprised. At least here, he was by the door and could make a quick escape.

"Angela, you need to know that I...don't exactly look the same."

"We all age, Gabriel." Except for her, apparently.

"Well, yes, but not...not like that." He watched her expression harden as she removed the circlet and mask, already knowing who was the cause. Oh, boy.

"What did she do to you, Gabriel?" Angela didn't often think of murder, especially in defense of an enemy, but she and Moira rarely saw eye-to-eye back in the day, and now she was imagining it.

"Nothing I didn't consent to, Angel-Face." It was amusing to watch her soften at the nickname. "Just, it's not, I'm definitely not the irresistible man I once was." A joke. A bad one to make light of the insecurity. At the Talon bases, he didn't mind removing his mask among the members of the inner circle. He didn't need to strike fear in them or present himself as death incarnate like he did for the soldiers and researchers and other staff. They were used to it, didn't mind at all. This didn't mean that Angela would take it the same way.

Reluctantly, he reached up and removed the plague doctor's mask from his face, eyes meeting hers as soon as his face was bare. He wanted to know her reaction, to see her calm demeanor turn into fear and revulsion. Gabriel should have known better. Instead of running away in terror or calling him a monster, her expression was almost sad, more compassionate and tender than anything; he swore he saw a little curiosity there too, but he wouldn't point that out to her. Let the scientist be a scientist at heart.

His face was scarred, skin pinched more in some places than others. And that was with him containing the most pleasant shape he could. Once his mask was on, when he was on a mission, his appearance was far more monstrous. Red eyes dotted his cheekbones up to his brows, like a mask of their own. His skin was torn in some places, stretching to accommodate the mess of sharp teeth. Gabriel didn't have a damn clue what animal's genes Moira tried to splice into his, but whatever she'd picked, it certainly made him...unique. He was glad it didn't look that terrifying at the moment.

Gabriel tensed when she reached out to remove his gloves, her touch gentle. Always tender with people she cared about; her touch had always been delicate. His hands showed the same scars, the same stretched-to-its-limits skin that was tight around his knuckles. In this shape, it hindered his grip sometimes. Controlling how he decayed and regenerated took a lot of energy to get it started. Once it was in place, he was able to hold it with a little less effort, but getting there was painful and exhausting.

Her fingers were cool against his skin as they ran along the puckered lines over the tops of his hands. Angela slowly dropped them and reached one hand up to his cheek. "Oh, Gabriel..." He couldn't tell if it was pitty in her voice, or something akin to a prayer. Gabriel was still in shock that she wasn't running or mocking him yet.

Rather than say anything else, she carefully drew him down to her level and pressed her lips to his. He froze for a moment, startled that she didn't seem to give a damn about how strange he must look to her. When Angela realized that he wasn't kissing her back, she pulled away, face flushing.

"I-I am sorry. You uh, did not want that, did you?" It wasn't a question, more of a disheartened statement, an admission of guilt, almost.

Gabriel leaned down and paused before his lips touched hers. "You surprised me, is all." When she didn't push him away, he took that as his cue to finally kiss her.  
His hands found her hip and cheek, touch gentle and barely there; it had been a long time since Angela had been with someone this loving. With how close they were to being handsy a few moments ago, she didn't expect it to change into something slow and sweet. With the gruff and sometimes exasperated attitude he'd adopted since leaving Overwatch years ago, she thought he would continue that behavior here. Angela wasn't complaining; she loved it.

Gabriel ran his hand from her hip to her ribs, just mapping out the shape. The beginnings of softness at her sides and thighs from years of less rigorous training were new, but damn if he didn't love it. A reminder that she was human, that she wasn't some otherworldly goddess, despite how he thought otherwise. It had him smiling slightly, gently squeezing her hip when he'd put his search on hold.

Angela pulled away a fraction. "I can feel you grinning."

"A man can't be happy that an intelligent and beautiful woman is happily in his arms?" he teased, gently kissing her cheek.

The unladylike snort that caused had him snickering. THE Angela Ziegler was snorting when she laughed. Unholy hell. "What did I say about blowing smoke up my skirts?"

"You didn't tell me a thing, Doc. You get the truth instead."

She swatted his arm lightly with a laugh, "Loopholes. You would find the loophole."

"Not the only thing I can find this evening."

At that, she burst into laughter and hid her face in his chest, shoulders shaking. "Gabriel, that was terrible."

"I only provide the worst jokes imaginable, Angel-Face."

"I noticed." And she loved it. Gabriel didn't sense in malice in the laugh, so he assumed it was a good thing. She finally looked back at him and caught his satisfied smirk. Rather than say something, she raised up to try and kiss the dumb grin off of his face. Asshole.

He knew damn well what she was trying to do, and didn't drop the smirk yet. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her and drew her closer, playfully squeezing her ass. Angela yelped and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Gabriel, I swear, I--mmph." He kissed her again with a chuckle, effectively shutting her up when he nipped at her lip.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, they started migrating to the stairs. Gabriel really didn't want to let go of her, lest this was a dream and she disappeared, but she was just as solid and real when he held her again. Carefully, he guided her backward to the bed, expecting her to sit on the edge. Instead, she only landed partway on the bed and would have fallen on the floor if Gabriel hadn't caught her. There was a beat of silence before they started laughing again as he helped her back up.

"That's my fault. Sorry." He smiled sheepishly, and she poked his stomach.

"Accepted, but I require another kiss to make my shoulder better after you jerked it like that."

"Done. Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, leaning down to gently kiss the top of her shoulder. "Better?"

"Yes." Her shoulders were shaking again, and he turned his head to give her a look.

"What's funny this time?"

"The great Gabriel Reyes, the Reaper, is kissing my "wounds."" That had him laughing this time, dropping the stern look for a moment. Rolling her eyes, she tugged him forward and kissed him again, this time carefully undoing the buttons on his vest before pushing it over his shoulders and down his arms. She always had appreciated them, or she did the last time she saw them years ago. Whether it was from the super soldier program or just him, she didn't know; either way, they were nice, and she squeezed them on her way back up to his shoulders.

He didn't resist as she made him switch places; she planned to make him sit on the bed once she got everything but his pants off of him. For now, his hum of contentment as she undid the tie in his hair to let it fall and then ran her hands through it.

"You grew it out. I like it," she murmured.

"It adds to my charm."

"Like you need any more."

"I haven't had any complaints yet."

Angela shook her head and suppressed her grin as he kissed her, taking the lead for the moment until she swatted his hands away from the clasps at her back. No. She was going to make him wait a little while longer. Angela went right back to undressing him, finally getting his shirt open and pushing that off of him too. She took a half step back to get a better look. The last time she'd seen this much of him was one of the last check-ups he'd had with her. He was getting more agitated by that point, quick to snap at people, but Angela assumed it was stress and had merely recommended that he take a week off to do nothing work related. He had not, of course, taken her suggestion and it was two weeks after that that the explosion happened.

She was still scared to ask him about it, not wanting to lose these moments of peace between them.

"You're staring a long time, Doc. Do I look that bad?" She met his eyes and saw a flicker of worry, the self-consciousness about his appearance apparent in his fidgeting. She wouldn't bring up the fall, not now.

"No. I am just thinking back to the last time I saw you half dressed. I must say, I missed this." She gestured to all of him, smirking. To some extent, at least in private, he was the old Gabriel. That was the Gabriel she had come to care for back then and was relearning to care for him a little differently now.

"Now who's blowing smoke up whose skirt?"

"Are we still on about that?"

"Only when you say something that warrants it," he teased. Gabriel's body seemed to uncoil from the tension, the worry that the rejection would finally come.

Angela groaned in exasperation, only to stop when he smirked. "I haven't even done anything, and you're doing--"

"Do not finish that sentence if you value what we are trying to do here."

"You make it sound like a group project, Angie."

"A group can be just two."

Gabriel laughed and carefully pulled her close again, "Back to this part, can I finally get this damn thing off of you?"

"Only if you do not ruin it. I worked hard on this."

"I'll be careful." And he was, rather than kiss her like she had him, Gabriel carefully reached behind her to undo the clasps tucked between the seams. He slid the dress down her arms, then her sides, letting it pool on the floor at her feet. She was...wearing nothing underneath that dress.

The look of surprised on Gabriel's face had her grinning, "Are you going to stop staring, Gabriel?"

"You weren't wearing anything under that dress."

"It was a tight dress. There was no room for anything under it unless I wanted lines."

He held her hand as she stepped out of the dress at her feet and took a moment to look again. "Are you sure you're not a real angel?"

Her giggle was worth the terrible joke, "No. No wings on my back, see?" Her coy smirk came back as she did a small spin for him, only letting him have a fleeting glimpse of the rest of her. Cheeky little--"Now, are going to stand here staring at one another all night?"

"I mean, you're drop dead gorgeous. I can't seem to die and yet I think you'll manage to be the death of me." Heaven help him, she was blushing again.

"That would be a shame. Who else am I going to have chance meetings with and save?"

"Excuse me. You do the saving?" He knew damn well she could keep his ass in one piece just as well as he could hers. Gabriel's smirk was wolfish when he leaned down to kiss her, only to kiss her nose instead. "Nice try, Angie, but I think we both know who's better at--"

"Gabriel, we can argue over who is better than who at whatever activity after I enjoy seeing the rest of you." That shut him up.

A few more minutes of teasing one another and after Angela finished undressing Gabriel, the finally made it onto the bed, Angela's hands in Gabriel's hair and his running over her stomach and down her thighs. It took a few moments for Angela to notice that something was off. "Gabriel, you are smoking."

He pulled back and looked down at himself, realizing that yes, he was losing his shape with the lack of focus. "Oh. I can fix it."

He didn't, but at least it didn't go beyond bits of black mist coming off of his skin for the rest of the evening. Angela would never let him live that down.


	6. A Dance With Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life's got aim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right. A double upload for y'all today. I actually finished this chapter before I finished chapter 5 because I had a weird Mr. and Mrs. Smith idea that I wanted them fighting back to back and winning while moving around each other like they've done it for years. Ya know?

This time was different. The teamwork between them was more fluid, equal in the contribution as they danced in tandem. Life didn't have to give Death an edge in the fight, and he didn't need to worry that Life would die during this fight. For once, the woman was putting out just as much damage as Death.   
  
Back to back, they were firing off at the enemy omnic faction that had been an underground rebel group. Life didn't know which of them the rebels were targeting, but they had to go up against both. A mistake on their part, as Angela ruthlessly fired at each one that got too close and raised a gun in their direction.  
  
"Trade!"  
  
Gabriel spun around, trading places with her after he gave the order. Fewer enemies were coming from his original direction, and he wanted to make sure she wasn't overwhelmed on this end. Angela didn't have a single problem with this; she knew her limits. The two didn't lower their guns once the onslaught of enemies stopped, waiting in case there were more coming as the backup.  
  
Breathing heavily, they finally relaxed a little after a minute of waiting and listening and lowered their weapons. Life holstered hers, but Death kept his out in case there was another problem.  
  
"Are you hurt?"  
  
"No, Gabriel, I am fine. Are you?"  
  
Gabriel glanced down at himself and the gash on the side of his hoodie from being grazed and huffed. He liked this jacket, dammit. "Nothing that won't fix itself in a minute or two."  
  
The pair took one more look around them before facing one another. "Do you have any idea what that was about?"  
  
"No. I'll have Sombra look into it for me. She owes me a favor." At the worried look on Angela's face, he quickly added, "What little she knows, she won't share."  
  
"What does she know?"  
  
"That we're in contact again and that we've saved each other's asses." This didn't seem to alleviate her concern, and then confusion. "Angela, it's fine. We don't have to worry about--"  
  
"Down!" Angela's eyes widened, and she deadweight dropped, dragging Gabriel with her a second before a shot rang out. Angela yanked her gun out as she landed on her knees, firing two shots at the attacker. There was a grunt of pain, the sound of metal hitting the ground, and then silence.  
Gabriel looked behind him at the rebel who had tried to sneak up on them, then at the gun on the ground beside the omnic. Well, at least she wasn't shooting at someone innocent out of paranoia, he thought mildly.  
  
"Nice shot."  
  
When he looked back, she seemed just as shocked as him. Angela was not known for shoot first and ask questions later; the fact that she took the first shot, even if it was shortly after a previous attack, rather than take cover first, was a new one. "I...honestly cannot believe I managed that."  
  
"Well, we're even. Again."  
  
The woman in front of him huffed a laugh. "I thought we were already."  
  
"This is in advanced because I'm sure I'll have to save your hide again eventually." That earned him a swat on the arm.  
  
"Hush. I just saved you, and I deserve a little more respect than that," she joked.  
  
"You're right. You should get a reward for that." He leaned forward to kiss her, only to stop when they heard sirens.  
  
Angela was well known, in and out of her Valkyrie suit. Without his garb on, they wouldn't know who he was, hopefully. That didn't mean it wouldn't look obviously suspicious to find two armed humans surrounded by armed, dead omnics. How many ordinary people or omnics can be outnumbered like this and come out fine?  
  
"We need to get out of here. Immediately." Angela nodded and gestured for him to lead the way. "We can buy me a new jacket while we're at it."  
  
"Normal couple things?" she teased, taking his hand when he offered to help her up.  
  
Now that was something. They hadn't really talked about it, knew it wouldn't work out the way they wanted because of their current circumstances. Maybe Angela only meant that it would help cover them from suspicion while out in public.  
  
"Yeah." He didn't know how else to respond. Gabriel knew he couldn't go that far in his attachment. Maybe in the future, when he was finished with what he had planned, but not now. For now, he could only enjoy the beginnings of it, the idea of what they wanted.


	7. The Shadow of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela and Reinhardt are meeting with representatives when shit hits the fan. They have their gun and the shield, but nothing else to keep them alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gets kind of ugly. Like, mention of dismemberment kind of ugly.  
> Otherwise, this was fun to write.  
> I got the inspiration for the last chapter and this chapter from this comic strip: https://starfish-drawz.tumblr.com/post/165959494940/part-1-part-2-part-3-end-any-excuse-to
> 
> And Reapers monstrous design from this comic: http://goingloco.tumblr.com/post/171973182034/souls-are-bad-for-your-teeth
> 
>  
> 
> And tbh, I can't remember at the moment if I mentioned what city the first chapter took place in and I'm half asleep and am too lazy to go look. I'll fix it later if I goofed. The German consulate thing came from my Oma working with them because of her position in a bank where she handled all of the big German accounts.

Several months passed before they saw one another again. It had driven Life up a wall, not knowing where Death was or if he was okay. She could only see his work on the news and watch as he took one person down after another. It was sobering, the reminder she needed of who and what he was. As much as she loved him, the man was still a murderer, and she didn't know why. Was it for fun? Revenge? Or just a way to tear down whatever was left of the old Overwatch?  
  
Life didn't know if she'd ever have an answer to that.  
  
Another skirmish popped up, this time in the state of Georgia. Angela and Reinhardt were there for a meeting with German and Swiss consulates which were in the area that neither of them wanted to attend. Why couldn't they do it via a video call? Oh well, at least she got to travel and get out of the house for a bit.  
  
The only gear she had on her was her gun and her staff, things that the consulates wanted to see out of curiosity. If it got them to cooperate with her, then fine, she'd show them.  
  
Getting shot at was not part of the plan.  
  
There were screams outside the building and Angela and Reinhardt rushed to the windows to see what happened. There was a group of agents shooting anyone between them and the front doors to the building they were in. Angela met eyes with her friend, worried. Neither of them had any armor to protect themselves from the gunfire. Reinhardt had his shield, the consulates wanting to see that too, but otherwise, they were screwed.  
  
They didn't have much of a choice, and so they ran for the stairwell to try and intercept the mercenaries before they could kill anyone else. Reinhardt had his shield up the moment they stepped outside; they didn't have any other option but for Angela to do the shooting. But damn there was a whole host of them out here, and the pair knew that this was not one of those times where they would easily get out of it. If they came out alive, it'd be a damn miracle.  
  
Neither knew who they worked for. It wasn't for Talon, or for any local organizations that they knew of.  
  
Angela took down four before Reinhardt warned her that they'd need cover in a few moments and to hurry to the right to get out of the line of fire. She didn't need to be told twice, and they ducked behind a pillar, Reinhardt automatically putting himself between her and the enemy in case any bullets went through the pillar. Unlikely, but he didn't want to risk it.  
  
"Ideas, Angela?"  
  
"No. Not one. How long until we can go back out?"  
  
"About another five seconds and it should have recharged enough. Reload while you have a moment, Angela."  
  
After she did, Reinhardt counted to three, and then they popped out for her to start firing again. The enemies were holding back, wanting to take the pair down before they advanced. Getting in close quarters to Reinhardt, hammer or no, was not a wise decision. The man was still a force to be reckoned with, and they knew it. There still had to be almost fifteen of them out there, and it was only a few seconds before they had to take cover again. Angela and Reinhardt couldn't keep doing this. They'd get smart and push forward in a few more moments, to take the risk of being in close proximity of Reinhardt to prevent giving Angela multiple windows to pick them off slowly.  
  
"Do you want me to try healing you through the bullets or keep this up until they get close enough for you?"  
  
Despite always being sure of his quick decisions, Reinhardt didn't have any idea of what to do. He peeked around the corner, and the bullets started up again. "They're smart and will aim for the head. You can't heal instant death."  
  
"Then we had better find you something you can swing around, hm?" Angela smiled weakly. They could retreat inside to use what they could against the enemy, but then they'd risk getting other people hurt if they hadn't run out the back of the building or taken shelter somewhere else.  
  
Reinhardt decided to take the chance. "I'll hold my shield up and back us up into the building. You keep shooting, and then we'll force them to funnel into the lobby."  
  
It was as good a plan as any.  
  
It took what seemed like forever until they got inside and out of the way of any walls along the front of the building that could be shot through. Now to wait. They didn't have to stand at the ready for long before the agents poured through the doors to get to them. Reinhardt had a small coffee table in hand waiting for them. Angela was positioned on the other side, firing into the group and avoiding shooting too close to where Reinhardt was fighting. Hiding behind the reception desk didn't provide a lot of cover, but it was better than nothing.  
  
Angela wound up having to take a risk and get closer to Reinhardt to heal him. He was taking so many bullets that she feared he'd die at this rate if she didn't start trying to patch him up now.  
  
It was stupid of her, and she knew that, but Angela didn't know what else to do. She prioritized his life over her own. Angela managed to avoid the gunfire as she ducked behind chairs and pillars for a few moments until she felt a searing pain in her dominant arm. She dropped behind cover with a yelp, hand going to her arm as she spared it a quick glance to see if it would last another minute or two without attention. It should be fine, but now she had to use her pistol with her other hand if this one wouldn't cooperate.  
  
"Angela!"  
  
She kept her arm close to her side and loosely holding onto her staff while she popped out to continue firing with her other hand. She faltered when she saw Reinhardt stumbling back with another shot to his leg. Shit. Fuck. Angela was just about to start shooting at the people getting too close to her friend when a black and red, writhing, and almost slimy, mass shot passed Reinhardt and into the group of terrorists with an inhuman howl that had the hair on the back of her neck raising. The screams of those it was tearing apart turned her stomach. She tried to block it out as she dropped her pistol and took the staff in her good hand, making a run for the fray and automatically boosting the creature that was saving them.  
  
"I will watch over you!"  
  
The unearthly noises coming from the mass amplified after she set her beam on it. The fight was over in a matter of seconds after that. The room around them was a disaster, littered with the pieces and parts of the corpses of those the creature had ripped apart in its rampage. Now that the dust had settled, she noted that the red that she saw before were eyes. Fucking hell that was terrifying.  
  
Startled, she stepped back and stumbled, falling on her ass, the staff clattering to the ground beside her. What the hell was that thing?  
  
The mass seemed to settle as well, the twisting smoke and shining coils of...something...stopped waving around it erratically. Its eyes settled on Angela and it slowly crept towards her. Angela suddenly felt like prey and tried to scramble back to put distance between them. It stopped its advance immediately when it picked up on her fear.  
  
"Angela."  
  
The voice was distorted, more than it usually was when she heard it from Death in his gear. It sounded like there were several of him, growling out her name.  
  
"Gabriel?"  
  
"Angela, get back!" Reinhardt hobbled between them. There was no way in hell he could take on whatever this was, not after the display it just presented them with, but he'd try to keep her safe, like always.  
  
"Reinhardt," she murmured. "It is okay."  
  
The mass seemed to roll its eyes, all dozen or so of them, and easily maneuvered around the man to get to Life. By the time he reached her, he was walking, but he wasn't completely solid yet. There were still distortions as Death tried to pull himself together. Literally.  
  
He said nothing as he carefully took her staff and switched it on, aiming it at Reinhardt first before he bled out. Reaper wasn't that cruel, even if he'd never liked the self-proclaimed knight, but the man wasn't on his list. He had no reason to kill him or let him die. Reinhardt watched this, tense as the nanites did their job but not because of the discomfort. Reyes was here. The man that had killed half of Overwatch and destroyed everything they'd worked so hard to build. And yet here he was, defending them, or, well, Angela, and administering aid to him.  
  
"Don't," Reaper growled, already sensing what Reinhardt was about to say to him. He faced Angela and helped her fix her arm. He looked mostly human, but exhaustion and discomfort marred his features, and there were still several red eyes scattered across his face. He hadn't told Angela what he looked like when he rampaged liked this, what he looked like when he didn't bother to be anything remotely human. There were also some days where he was just tired and didn't care.  
  
When her arm healed, he carefully passed the staff back to her. No matter how badly Talon wanted it or the blueprints for it, Reaper wouldn't take it to them. He'd take anything from Overwatch but this thing and her suit. Or Tracer's chest piece, at the request of Mercy. She made him promise not to bust it up or take it. Damn her for getting what she wanted. Damn him for giving in.  
  
"It wasn't how I wanted to show you that abomination. I'm sorry," he murmured, standing and leaving them for a second while he retrieved Mercy's pistol for her.  
  
After he passed it back to her, Reinhardt decided to speak up anyway. "Angela, I think we all need to have a talk."  
  
"It will have to wait. We need to take care of this before we do anything else," she said, gesturing to the destroyed lobby. "And I need to provide aid to anyone who is injured. Oh, and you know the police and whoever else they send to us will have questions. It could be a while."  
  
"Where are you staying?" Reaper asked suddenly. "We can talk there when we're done here."  
  
"No. I don't trust that."  
  
"Reinhardt, I promise, nothing bad will happen." She hoped. After all of this, she prayed it wouldn't bite her in the ass. "I trust him."  
  
"You trust him? After everything he's done to us? To our friends? To everything we strove to protect?" Reinhardt took a step closer, glaring at Reaper.  
  
Reaper met him part way, just as furious. "Yes, and who left her alone to get killed back in France a year ago? Who helped keep you idiots alive against that gang that tried to attack you from behind? Who just saved your asses again? Do not question my loyalty after all of that." To her, went unsaid.  
  
"Boys, please. Not now." Mercy got to her feet and wedged herself between them, forcing them to make space. "We can talk about this later."  
  
"What is he talking about, Angela?"  
  
"Later," she snapped. She shot Reaper a look and gave him the name of the hotel and their room numbers. "Just meet us there. We will be back in a few hours."  
  
"You both were just attacked by seemingly random terrorists, and you expect me to just go wait on the sidelines?" Now his glare was directed at her. "I'm not leaving you two alone until we find whoever sent them."  
  
"How did you know they would be here?" Reinhardt asked quickly.  
  
"Sombra warned me. Don't ask." Reaper pulled the hood of his jacket up. The rest of his face seemed to finish its transition to the scared facade that Angela usually saw when they were together.  
  
"And why would you come?" Then it seemed to dawn on him. "You both have been talking this whole time, haven't you? How long?"  
  
"Reinhardt, please, let us--"  
  
"How. Long."  
  
Angela rubbed at her temple sighing in defeat. "Almost a year, now. That mission in Monpillier, when there was us, Talon, and that group of rebels that wanted to fight for territory. You all left me behind when I was trying to help a civilian and I was cornered on my way back by a Talon agent. Gabriel saved me and then escorted me back." Escort, as in, he cleared a path for her to dodge dead bodies like breadcrumbs back to her group, then yes, he escorted her.  
  
"You have been in contact with this traitorous murderer for a year?" Reinhardt looked ready to punch Reaper, and at this point, Mercy was prepared to smack both of them over the head with her staff to knock them both out. It'd save her some trouble, honestly.  
  
A noise outside reminded them that law enforcement was coming, and likely government officials and press with them. "Shit. The cameras in here. They will ask us who you are and we will be unable to deny them the information. They will know we are lying."  
  
"Taken care of." And he owed Sombra a shit ton for it, but she was supposed to have cut the feed if he had to get involved. Hopefully, she will have held up her end of the bargain or so help him.  
  
Reinhardt exhaled slowly, rubbing his face tiredly. "Just get out of here. As Angela said, we will talk later."  
  
"And I already told you I'm not lea--"  
  
"Gabriel," Angela hissed. Reaper made himself scarce a second before people started flooding the lobby, gear on and ready for a deadly fight, only to find the two former heroes alone in a room full of destroyed corpses. Well, the pair hadn't thought about how to explain that.  
  
Angela was getting too old for this, as she noted the shadow sliding into place over her own. If he commented on her ass later because he was down there for however long, so help her...  
  
\--  
  
Sombra leaned back in her chair, propping her feet up on her desk and sipping slowly at her coffee. She left enough of a glimpse of Reaper going in and ripping the terrorists apart and cut the feed before the angel got up and boosted him. There. Now they could deny knowing who Reaper was when the feds asked them about the mysterious creature that came in.  
  
"You owe me big for this, Gabe. At least an invite to the wedding when you finally finish your little personal quest." Her lips twitched towards a grin. Ugh, these two. Maybe she could get the big guy in on a bet as to how long it'll take for these two to make it official, but with how pissed he looked when the three of them were talking, she doubted he'd take kindly to it yet. Best to let him warm up to the idea of the Angel of Death and Life herself being together before she approached him about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh I'm also a lil iffy on this chapter. Thoughts?  
> Also, what's with me and the cops coming with them having to hide? That's two chapters in a row.


	8. A Reprieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a filler, mostly. It's soft cuddling and just talking quietly before going to bed for the night.  
> Also, it's in Gabriel's POV.

The questioning lasted for hours.

 

Why were they there? Who were those people? Why did they have their weapons and shield from their Overwatch days? Who were they meeting at that building? Why them? What was that thing that burst into the lobby with a horrific screech to leave the place looking like such a disaster and stomach-turning scene of corpses? Was it someone from their Overwatch days? An enemy? An ally? Could the people trust that thing? Trust them, after that display?

 

By the time they were free to go and got back to the hotel, it was close to two am. Rather than have the talk that Reinhardt demanded, he and Angela decided to wait until morning. Reinhardt didn't know Gabriel had stuck around, hiding in Angela's shadow, and Angela had almost forgotten that he was there until she closed and locked the door to her room. He parted from her shadow and shifted back into a human; Gabriel looked just as tired.

 

"I'm getting too old for this."

 

"That makes two," Angela muttered.

 

She looked down at her mess of an outfit, covered in blood, dust, and who knows what else, and silently said to hell with it. Angela stripped her clothes off and tossed on her pajamas rather than shower first. She was tired, sore, and didn't give a damn at this point.

 

"Angela, are you okay?"

 

Angela was putting her pistol and staff away, and she didn't look up when she replied with a quiet, "No, not really."

 

Gabriel took off his jacket and kicked his shoes off, sitting on the edge of the bed to wait for her. It took a few minutes before she joined him and they crawled under the blankets together, Gabriel turning off the lights a second later.

 

They lay there in silence for a time, and Gabriel thought that Angela had fallen asleep. She surprised him when she finally spoke again. "Thank you for saving us again. I do not know how we can pay you back this time."

 

"And what you saw didn't bother you?"

 

Angela squeezed tighter around his middle. "It did. It was certainly a frightening sight, Gabriel. I did not know it was you until after you said my name. For a moment, I thought you might turn on us the second the terrorists were taken care of. We did not know what you were or what you would do."

 

Gabriel said nothing for a moment, hiding his face in her hair. Dammit. She'd been in danger. Reinhardt was down and unable to help, and Angela was close behind. Gabriel was terrified that he wouldn't get there in time, that they'd be dead. Sombra hadn't caught it sooner, or he'd have taken care of it before they ever reached the building, or at least warned them and helped when it started.

 

"Surprise. That's what I look like when I stop caring to look human." He felt Angela nod.

 

"As scared as I was, I must admit that it was impressive. I did not realize that you could take down so many in such a short amount of time."

 

"Remember what I told you when you helped me that first time, in the offices?" He paused before continuing, ""Death only fears the day Life ends, and he no longer holds a purpose." I had to make sure you didn't die. Someone has to around here."

 

"Ah, so you do care," she teased quietly.

 

"I've never not, Angel Face," he murmured.

 

Angela hummed "Who would have guessed that the Grim Reaper was a romantic?"

 

"I'm plenty romantic, thank you very much." He kissed the top of her head as his voice softened. "I'm sorry again about earlier. That was—not something I ever wanted you to see. Seeing your terrified retreat is why." At least she didn't call him a monster to his face, not to be hurtful. Small victories, he supposed.  
  
 

"I should apologize for um, trying to run like that."  
  
 

"Don't be sorry, Angela. You didn't know. There's nothing to be sorry for." He knew he'd fucked up in his approach, that he should have shifted back before trying to move.  
  
 

After a paused, Angela spoke up, "Gabriel, who were those people? Are they connected to the gang from--"  
  
 

"I don't know. I'll ask Sombra if she knows anything about them or can locate information on them." If she didn't have it already and was waiting for him to ask for it. Ugh. How many more favors would she want from him for that? "These people came for you and that big oaf. I don't know why, but we'll make sure it doesn't happen again."  
  
 

"You cannot promise that, Gabriel."  
  
 

"Watch me, princess. Ow!" She had swatted him on the shoulder, startling a huff of laughter from him. "I will simply stay nearby when I can."  
  
 

"And what will your friends think about that?"

 

Gabriel seemed to ponder it for well over a minute before he spoke again, "I'll need to work out the details, but I believe that I can come up with something to make it work."  
  
 

He squeezed her around the middle and grumbled out an order to go to sleep already. "We can talk more in the morning."  
  
 

"Fine. Love you, Gabriel."  
  
 

She'd said it, and hoped he'd reply with the same. He didn't, but he did kiss the top of her head softly and rubbed a hand down her back in a soothing motion. It was enough, for now, she decided.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at ixhadbadxdays! :0)


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